


A Rose, By Any Other Name

by rebelrsr



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/F, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-06
Updated: 2009-07-06
Packaged: 2019-02-06 09:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelrsr/pseuds/rebelrsr
Summary: Sara receives a series of mysterious gifts. Are they from a secret admirer… Or a stalker from her past?





	A Rose, By Any Other Name

The first paper rose, made from an intricately folded napkin, arrived mysteriously, appearing on Sara’s desk after she stepped away. _Call me,_ it read in perfect block print. The number below was unfamiliar. Labeling it a prank, Sara ignored the written plea.

 

When she returned from class, the rose still sat on her desk; however, it no longer looked like a tiny flower. Now it stretched out in wrinkled glory, crumpled edges held carefully open by polished stone paperweights.

 

Sara had only decided to keep the gift after the second paper rose showed up. This time, she’d actually witnessed its delivery.

 

_“Professor Sidle?” One of her students peered hesitantly around her office door._

_Not really wanting to be interrupted, Sara fought a scowl and set down her pen. “Yes?” There were so many faces in her classes that she had to hunt for a name. “Can I help you…Josh?” She didn’t know she’d guessed correctly until the young man smiled._

_“Actually, I think I’m here to help you,” Josh announced. He stepped just across the threshold and held out his hand. “This is for you.”_

Poor Josh probably wasn’t expecting the intent, professional interrogation he received for playing delivery boy. Still, after nearly an hour of questioning him, Sara was convinced he wasn’t behind the presents; nor did he know the name of the girl he claimed had asked him to bring the rose to Sara.

 

That meant Sara had a problem. She wasn’t naïve enough to think she had a secret admirer. A stalker, though… Her years as a crime scene investigator made that a far more likely scenario. Staring at the first napkin, Sara reached for a loop and bent closer to her desk. Immediately, the red paper expanded, growing until she stared at a bewildering collection of fibers and textures.

 

Unfortunately, the napkin was only a napkin. There was nothing out of place. Nothing that became visible even under magnification.

 

Shoving the first rose out of the way, Sara flattened the second out in its place and repeated the examination. Again, there were no clues to the creator’s identity.

 

Sara set the loop aside and leaned back in her chair. “Damn it! Why now?” She hadn’t been an investigator for nearly four years. Surely none of the criminals that she’d helped convict would have tracked her down. Sara wracked her memory for any one of the dozens of cases she’d worked in Las Vegas or San Francisco that would explain the two attractively phrased messages. “Call me,” Sara read the first note out loud. Skipping the telephone number, she moved on to the second note. “I’m still waiting… Stop overthinking this and call.”

 

Maybe it was time to report this to campus security. Sara’s hand hovered over the phone – and then dropped away. No. They already thought she was a nutcase thanks to the press the university had put out when it hired her. She’d have to deal with this on her own until she had more than just two napkins.

 

Focused intently on the mystery in front of her, Sara jumped when her cell phone beeped discreetly. Shaking her head in disgust at her reaction, she grabbed the phone and flipped it open. A tiny envelope icon announced there was a new text message waiting.

 

_Still the same old Sidle. Do I have to spell it all out for you? Meet me in the Old Yard by Johnston Gate. Fifteen minutes._

 

Sara didn’t stop to consider the risks. Pocketing her phone and the two napkins, she was out the door in seconds. Thankfully, her office in Lewis was close enough to the Old Yard. She’d have time to scope out the area before the appointed time.

 

Students were everywhere, though. Good weather and a holiday weekend meant most of them had nothing better to do than loiter.

 

Scanning the throng of young people, Sara couldn’t locate anyone who seemed out of place. No one (other than herself) appeared to be waiting for anyone. And, to top it all off, none of the kids were familiar. Out of options, Sara stalked toward Johnston Gate.

 

Her phone rang as she hovered behind a pair of co-eds intent on testing the university’s policy on public lewdness.

 

“Hello?” Sara wasn’t interested in talking, and it showed in the less than inviting tone of her voice.

 

Silence answered her brusque query.

 

It put Sara on guard. “Who is this?” she demanded. “Answer me!” This was getting old. Sara hated games. More than that, she hated games where she was obviously on the losing team and didn’t know the rules.

 

“Across the street. I’m at the church.” The caller was female. And young.

 

And Sara didn’t recognize her. “No. I’m done with this. Either tell me who you are or I call security.” It was a lame threat. By the time anyone from campus security showed up, the caller could be on the other side of Cambridge.

 

Sara wasn’t the only one who thought that, either. “I don’t think so. Not the Sara Sidle _I_ know. _That_ Sara would come to the church to get her own answers. She wouldn’t hide behind rent-a-cops.”

 

The line went dead.

 

“God _damn_ it!” Sara snarled with enough vitriol to shock the two entwined students in front of her out of their groping. “I hate this.”

 

They stared at her in confusion until the young man inched away from his companion and held out his hands placatingly. “Sorry. We’ll take this to the dorm.”

 

Sara glared at him. “I wasn’t talking to you.” Striding toward Peabody Street, she ignored the wide-eyed looks the couple gave her. The church the caller had mentioned had to be the First Unitarian Church. It was the only one near the first location she’d been given. Sara dodged a few cars and groups of slower pedestrians as she crossed Peabody and Massachusetts.

 

This was an ideal location for a clandestine meeting. The cool, dim interior and the heavy silence invited you to huddle close and whisper.

 

Taking a few steps down the center aisle, Sara realized she was the only person in the church. This was another wild goose chase.

 

She backed up, hands clenched in frustration – and bumped into someone.

 

A hand extended over her shoulder, another paper rose held gently between long, slender fingers. “I thought you’d never make it, Sar,” Catherine mocked softly. “I bet you couldn’t figure out why anyone would send you flowers.” Her breath tickled Sara’s neck. “Did you think I was a stalker?”

 

Frozen in place, Sara simply shook her head in denial. Not of Catherine’s final question. But of her presence in the church. At Harvard. With _her_. “Why?” she finally managed to ask.

 

“Read the note, Sara.” Catherine pressed the rose into Sara’s right hand and then wrapped her arms around Sara’s waist. “It explains everything.”

 

It took a few tries to get her uncooperative fingers to unfold the new napkin. However, Sara persevered. She stared at the letters for a long time, unable to make them make sense. “Cath?”

 

Warm lips brushed her ear. “I thought Harvard only hired the best and brightest.” Was that a quiver in her voice? “It says: I love you, Sara.”


End file.
